


The Sweetest Flesh

by Krubera



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Bestiality, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Dreamworld rape, Fingerfucking, Gun Kink, Gunplay, Interrogation, Minor Character Deaths, Multi, Out of Body Experiences, Public Rape, Revenge for rape, Sex Magic, Tentacle Rape, The whole crew gets nonconned, ghost rape, raped in front of a crowd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krubera/pseuds/Krubera
Summary: The crew reach the pickup point earlier than scheduled only to find a very different kind of ship waiting for them.





	The Sweetest Flesh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tentaclekitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentaclekitten/gifts).



> For TentacleKitten. I loved many of your prompts and couldn't choose just one! This was great fun writing for you! 
> 
> Regarding the plot: this assumes a slight AU to canon where Tuuri’s infected bite/end of Chapter 15 never took place but everything else remains the same. I didn't want to leave her out of all the fun. ;) 
> 
> Note to everyone coming from outside the Nonconathon Exchange: read the warnings before continuing.

They reached the pick up point without any further incident. The fiends haunting their tracks were well far away by now. Out here the scenery was sunny, green, and calm. 

Despite the tank spluttering and crashing several times, they managed to bring all their persons and the books of the Old World to the rendezvous point. Battered as they were, the expedition would have been considered a success. 

Though Sigrun’s injured arm still ached from time to time, it would be healed once proper care was administered in the ship that awaited them. Speaking of, she was certain she could see it up ahead sailing towards them when she had gone out to take a look around the shore, and beaming, she called out for her crew to come welcome them. 

“We made it, crew! Told you our mission would be a success!” she cried out in triumph.

“It appears we’re a little too early by our previous calculations,” Mikkel said but Sigrun kept making hoots of celebration. It was hard to keep track after the radio had gone dead, but that had been all the more reason to make a beeline for this port. “By a few hours to a full day, I believe.”

Sigrun scuffed. “Come on! Don’t you see that ship…” The excitement died in her throat as the ship got nearer and she got a closer look at it. 

It wasn’t any proper ship with the quarantine facilities Torbjörn spoke of. This ship had gone through turbulences and storms and patched up hastily before making out to sea time and time again. The flag sailing didn’t proudly display any of the five Nordic countries; it was pure black, a flag for the rebels and rogues who have denounced the nationalities of the Known World and sought a life outside the borders. 

Bile rose up Sigrun’s throat. Of course. Pirate would have made the coastal stop their own. Hadn’t Torbjörn mentioned there would be canned foods and other comforts? Trust the little shitheads to sniff out this place. 

“Why hello there, sexy!” called out one of the pirates in Swedish as he leaned out, giving them all a toothy grin. “I see you’ve brought us a truckload of _books_ there! As valuable as gold around here!” 

Mikkel sputtered next to Sigrun. He glanced about himself, glaring at one of the younger crew as if they were foolish enough to have dragged out one of the highly prized items. Mikkel, Sigrun saw, was smart enough to have brought his axe with him when she had called him out. Just in case. 

Smart move, she thought. Still not out of the woods yet. 

“How did he know about the books?” he whispered to Sigrun. 

A shrill laughter met their ears. A thin lady cloaked in a hood approached the deck, studying them with delighted malice. Long hair trailed down one side out of her hood. 

“No use whispering here!” she said. “Louhi will hear you regardless! We’ve received word of your whereabouts from my greatest accomplices, and we knew when to come for you!” 

In that moment they heard the whining of a horse, and all the tiny hairs on Sigrun’s arm stood on end. She turned to find the band of beasts and trolls catch up to them at last, snarling and grinning horribly. They filed behind their leader in orderly fashion, very odd behavior for their kind that she wondered if it was all work of the wicked mage. Their leader was a tall twisted shape of a horse, ghostly in appearance and ghastly in how it approached them. 

Really, she could laugh. 

Folding her arms, Sigrun leaned back slightly, watching a bird flutter by way overhead, safe in the bright tranquil blue sky. 

“You told them to remain behind,” Sigrun said. “No matter how slow we were going, you told them to keep a little further away so we thought we were all safe and we would get here without any incident. I get you. That was clever.” 

From under the hood, Sigrun saw the bright flash as Louhi grinned. 

Sigrun sighed deeply. So much for returning as heroes. 

“Looks like you got us.” 

A quick glance at her crew told her that none liked the idea she had in her head but she had no other choice. “What is it you need here? Our books? Take them!” Her arm stung. “Just, take them! It’s no use fighting over them, and most of them is about stupid stuff anyway!” 

_And maybe I’ll cleave off your heads while you’re at it_ , she added in her head with a smirk. 

But then more pirates were appearing on deck, to Sigrun’s discomfort; they were easily getting outnumbered, and fast, that even if she could take them on even with an injured arm, she was still one person. There was Mikkel and his axe, and Emil and his gun, but even that would not be enough. And there were still the trolls to deal with. 

Louhi turned to the man who was the first among them to speak and said with a nod, “Surt.” 

“We’ll come for the books, but first we have another matter to take care of,” Surt said with a sneer that Sigrun wanted to smash with her boot. “You see, we’re all very hungry for flesh. _Hungry for flesh!_ ” He repeated in Icelandic with lustful glee. 

At this, the others huddled closer towards Sigrun, save for Lalli who at first did not understand until Tuuri quickly translated. Then his pupils shot into tiny dots. 

“You have plenty of flesh to enjoy on your ship,” Sigrun shot out. A muscle began to throb in her neck. Pirates were slowly making their way towards them. It wasn’t fear gripping her, although it was partly that. Anger was also building in. If any of those filthy hands got on her or her friends… “Don’t think you’ll like the starving kind that’s been rotting out here with the trolls. There’s plenty of good flesh on deck for yourselves.” 

“New flesh is always sweetest,” Surt said. “The unwillingness, the fear you can taste, the joy in pain. We specialize in taking what is never given freely.” 

He gave the cry, and it was returned by the pirates before they charged at them. 

“Give them all you got!” Sigrun cried out as Tuuri hastily translated in Icelandic and Finnish for Reynir and Lalli. “Aim for the trolls; make them the least of our problems!” 

The swarm of pirates washed over them. Sigrun fought back left and right, not seeing who she was striking. Warm blood splattered on her face and clothes, and tasting victory, it drove her further. From the shouts and the screams and the sounds of guns going off and Mikkel’s axe swinging and the chanting from the scout, she could also assume, and hope, the rest were putting up the greatest fight of their lives. 

She came across a few trolls and took care of them, and grabbed at least one pirate and threw him to his death, devoured by the ghastly creatures.

“Heh, you said you wanted sweet flesh?” she laughed. 

Suddenly there was screaming. She thought she heard a high-pitched, “Nononono, _please!_ ”

And suddenly the battle ended. 

Something struck Sigrun on the side of her head she fell to the ground, blacking out.

* * *

When she came to she was being tied to a tall thin tree. Immediately she counted the figures being forced on their knees before her. Five. There was Tuuri with a face full of tears, Emil trying not to meet her eyes (she soon realized why when she glanced down herself), Mikkel looking scratched up but otherwise fine, and the two mages at the end. Lalli’s eyes were wide and he looked shellshocked, frozen in place, his mind locked somewhere, but Reynir was crying and shaking into his hands, jumping each time one of the pirates screamed at him to shut the fuck up. 

“All of you, eyes up here, NOW! Including you, _blondy_!” 

“Fucker,” Sigrun hissed. Her jacket had been discarded and her black shirt was pulled up so that one breast was exposed. Surt or some other, whose name was Fernyr, must have been enjoying her while she was unconscious. She fought against the binds, but that only made the other pirates roar and grin. The men stroked themselves. Tuuri wept more heavily. Anger shot up her head. “Fucker!” She kicked and screamed and continued to cuss as the pirates around guffawed. 

“We got a playful one here, men!” 

Surt strutted up to her. His breath smelled thick with alcohol against her face. “That’s right, love, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do to you!” 

With one tug of his hands he shoved down her pants roughly, nearly ripping it off as he discarded it along with her panties. Before her crew she was left with nothing on below the waist. 

“Keep your eyes on your captain!” Surt said just as he plunged a thick calloused finger up her pussy without any further preparation or warning. Sigrun sucked in a breath; her body immediately ached from the friction and she gasped but fought back any noise as he worked up his finger into her. Fernyr guffawed and came around them, his hands like claws against her hip. As Surt fingerfucked her, Fernyr swept down to bite, hard, on her nipple. She shrieked and rocked to shake them both off. 

“Fucker!” She kicked, first to knock off Surt, then to kick Fernyr in the balls. "Shit-eating cockpissing asshole! I will gorge your fucking eyes out!” 

“We certainly got a wild one here!” Surt announced. “Garm!” 

He called more names, all names from myths — of course, Sigrun thought through the pain, they would abandon their birth names when they came to this lifestyle; this gave them some anonymity — and more men grabbed her legs and kept them spread as the men bit and fucked her with their hands; Surt kept one hand on his own dick. Then Sigrun heard someone unzip his pants; she glared at Surt. 

“I will have your head on a spike,” she hissed. 

“I will love it, darling,” he said and then took a step back just as Fernyr drove into her. White sparks blew before her eyes, but the scream that came out of her mouth was that of pure rage and anger. He gave a joyful yelp and pounded into her with such speed that she felt she might get torn into two. 

_How fucking dare they touch me, how fucking dare they touch me, how fucking dare they…_

She pushed and fought against him, even with men forcing her legs apart, until she heard the telltale grunt and sigh and felt his come fill her. Then finally he stepped back, slapped her ass and called her a whore. The men released her legs. 

She watched as the white fluid, some of it mingled in the red curls of her pubic hair, trickled down her legs before her crew. They were forced to watch the entire thing. Tuuri’s face was indescribable. Lalli was still coming out of shock, and now Reynir looked like he was going to faint. Mikkel regarded her with sympathy and pity, but Emil was beginning to break down — _don’t you dare!_ Sigrun wanted to yell at him. She didn’t cry one drop of tear and she wasn’t going to now, not even while her pussy burned like hell from having a giant dick fucking her at top speed. 

“Enjoyed the grand start of the show?” Surt called out. “Don’t fret! You’ll each get your own turn! You two! I hear you’re into magic tricks! Louhi and Untamo would like to see you both! You, big guy! Just the kind of man Jörmungandr’s been looking for!” 

Emil hiccuped as Reynir and Lalli were first dragged away from the group. Since the words were all in Swedish, they had no clue of what was being said. Then Mikkel was taken away. 

“You!” Surt said, pointing at Emil. “A Cleanser, like myself in my old life. I’ve been getting my dick all hard and ready for you this evening, darling!” 

Emil blanched. 

“As for you, girl,” he sneered last at Tuuri. “You and the captain are going to have a little chit-chat with Fernyr.”

* * *

Lalli would shake his head if he gave a damn at Reynir’s tactics; he was fighting against the magical binds with all his might. The mages dragging them were kades. There were at least three wicked mages among the pirates that he could sense, and the two taking them away were Finnish like himself. Reynir squirmed and cursed and tried drawing in the air with one finger any runes to cast, and still the ropes around their wrists stayed put. 

And then he would turn to look at Lalli with those sad wide eyes and blither in that language that Lalli just could not understand. If he wanted to say something, Lalli wished Tuuri would just stop crying and translate for them. 

Except…where _was_ Tuuri? 

Realizing she wasn’t with them was the final straw. There were too many close calls with his cousin, and the last thing he needed was to lose her _now_ , when they were so close to finally going home. 

He could try to free himself and leave Reynir, but…even Lalli wasn’t this cruel. Reynir had been good helping him throughout. Tuuri was his friend. And they couldn’t leave. Their binds were too tight. 

Lalli sighed; he did have the feeling they should not have come here. The entire mission was a terrible idea, and now…

They would be lucky if they all survived. 

The ghostly horse stood a few feet away, his chest extended triumphantly in their capture. They were ordered to kill the trolls, and they succeeded with that before being overtaken by the pirates, but this ghost remained. The one who kept taunting Lalli throughout the later half of their mission. 

Lalli could feel its eyes on him and he recoiled. 

_Are you still weak?_

_Why are you interested in me?_ Lalli was afraid to ask back.

The kades ceased their tugging, leaving Reynir and Lalli lying there next to one another with their wrists tied up. The kades cast their eyes on them, and Lalli felt his clothes being tugged off with invisible hands. Reynir loudly gasped and resisted, but Lalli just froze, only able to emit the tiniest sound of objection. He could feel the horse’s ghostly eyes still on him, drinking in his naked form. 

The kades spoke a chant. 

The world about them dissolved. Lalli gasped loudly, realizing what was going on. 

“Lalli, what can we do about those mages?” Reynir pleaded. 

Lalli squeezed his eyes, resolved. He had no idea what the kades were doing by sending them to the dream world. They were still bound together, naked and vulnerable to attack, but at least now he could understand Reynir’s words. It was small comfort. 

“I don’t know,” Lalli said. “Maybe we will die.” 

“Don’t say that!” 

“Maybe _I_ will die,” Lalli sighed. “I’ll try to get you out. We should never have come here.” 

They turned their attention to the kades. 

“Welcome,” Louhi said as she stood beside the ghost. Untamo stood beside them, not saying a word. He too wore a long hood over his face, but Lalli could feel his eyes examining their naked bodies, resting more often at Reynir’s than his own. Either way he didn’t like this. “I see you have met Commander Sleipnir before. He tells me he has become very fond of you, Lalli Hotakainen. He wishes to feel every part of you.” 

Lalli tensed. 

“Please, don’t!” Reynir quickly interjected. “You-you shouldn’t! Take me instead, please! I’ll do anything! Each of you can rape me! Just don’t touch him!” 

Lalli glanced at Reynir. He knew what he was thinking. There had been more than one incident where Reynir realized that Lalli hated being touched. And just from the way they feasted on his body with their lustful eyes along made him sick. 

Louhi laughed. “Do you have a little crush on him, Icelander? It won’t be enough to spare him. The Commander is very much interested in getting a good taste of Lalli. Don’t worry. You’ll get some attention yourself.” 

A strange warmth built up in Lalli’s chest. Gasping, he tried grabbing for Reynir’s hand, alarmed at what was happening to him. For a moment he thought they were about to kill him and rape his corpse, but then—

It was worse. Lalli felt his entire spirit rip from his body. He was still in there, still breathing, still feeling, still alive; but he was also floating a few feet above his body. His spirit shared a horrified look with Reynir; his own body lay, limp but clearly alive. And that much more vulnerable. 

“Lalli!” Reynir cried out, but Lalli couldn’t respond. He watched as Commander Sleipnir positioned over him, took note of the large cock against the horse’s underbelly, and — 

The sharp pain pierced him like a double sword. He felt his entire body breached by the giant horse cock, but his spirit also felt it, his body aching and throbbing where he was just violated. 

His sensitivity to touch shot in overdrive— _too much too much too much!_ —and it was worse with Reynir dissolving into thick, heavy crying next to him, crying and screaming for the Commander to stop. 

And then Untamo swept down and spread Reynir’s thighs open, and drove himself in, and Lalli nearly went blind with pain. Feeling the violation of both himself and Reynir, his mind shattering under the double violation, double pairs of unwelcome hands on their bodies prodding, fondling, fucking, raping, violating. 

“Stop this pain!” he begged his gods. “Stop!” 

Louhi watched as his spirit coiled into a ball and smiled. Reynir was crying heavily, begging the aggressive Untamo to stop, go slower, but the force and speed and the Commander driving the giant dick in Lalli was all too much, too much, _too much_ touching, his sensors were in overdrive and—

He shrieked and shrieked till the very ground of the dreamworld shook and shattered along with him.

* * *

Mikkel hung upside down over the ocean. He tried to keep the fear out of his face as the tentacled creature held him by one ankle. Another tentacle soon joined it, coiling lovingly around an arm. If he tried to fight it or irritated it in any way, it could easily let go and he would plunge into the depths. And there was no guarantee that was a better feat. There was no telling what other creatures were in the sea, and there was one bad incident with Sigrun and a sea beast weeks back that Mikkel didn’t wish to repeat. 

The man commanding the creature was a mage, and he was delighting himself. He stroked his cock as he had the creature slowly turn Mikkel around, shredding off every piece of clothing with its remaining free tentacles; they clasped and tugged on each item with a sickeningly wet sensation that left him feeling sick, never mind that he was being lifted upside down half the time. It was worse when it touched bare skin: the silky, slimy tentacle wrapping around his middle, slimy tentacles over his nipples, navel, toes, knees, elbows, over his nose and lips, the goo sticking to his sideburns. 

One tip found his anus and he squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself. 

It tickled around his entrance, like a wet tongue lubricating his puckered hole before slipping in, slowly at first, as if it _cared_ , as if it didn’t want to hurt him. And it…Mikkel had to admit, the cool lubricated surface of the tentacle was nice against his ass. Strange to admit given the circumstances, but if it would lead to less tearing, he could give in to this. 

He felt the tugging of its muscles as it kept slipping in…or it was pulling out? It was hard to guess. 

Then another tentacle found his lips and swept over it. He pressed his lips together. No. He would not. But seeing Jörmungandr masturbating, he knew he needed to give in or lest be ripped apart. He didn’t trust that they cared much for himself and his crew outside of the assault. The mage just wanted a wank and a show. At least Mikkel wasn’t being raped like Sigrun with an entire crowd to point and laugh at his humiliation, so it did not matter. Let him get fucked by the sea monster. 

He opened his mouth slowly, and the tentacle slipped in eagerly. It wiggled in his mouth just as the tentacle in his ass mimicked the action. The tip tickled the back of his throat, and his tongue brushed against the surface. He fought back a gag from the terrible taste, thinking of what else this creature must have rubbed against in the depths below. Suddenly Mikkel was very thankful it was himself and not one of the non-immune victims who were being dragged into this. 

The tentacle in his anus banged against something and he whimpered around the thick length in his mouth, which seemed to delight the creature. It slipped a little more in, exploring. His own cock twitched despite himself. 

That was it. Right? This had to be entertaining. That was all Jörmungandr needed. What more could he need to finish?

Apparently, a lot. They had only just begun. The tentacle kept slipping, slowly, lovingly slowly, deeper into his mouth, sliding down his throat. Lucky for the mage Mikkel had very strong muscles and very little gag reflex or this wasn’t going to be pretty for any of them. But as the tentacle kept going, Mikkel’s panic grew. The one in his ass, he realized, was also slipping in deeper, deeper, stretching his hole wider as it kept roping itself in. How long were the tentacles on this thing? 

_Just how far are you going with this?_

Tears began to collect at the corner of his eyes. They slipped deeper, and he squirmed uncomfortably. The one down his throat must have passed his stomach now. He tried focusing on the one fucking his ass; at least the slippery cool surface was a welcoming and, dare he say it, a nice sensation, compared to _this_. 

Jörmungandr gave a shudder at the same time something very strange took place deep within Mikkel’s gut like something wet fast filling from both ends. He didn’t think about it, didn’t _want_ to think about it. 

He was going to be sick.

* * *

When Surt or Garm weren’t busy fucking Emil’s mouth, they replaced that spot with their gun. If Emil didn’t suck it, they had told him, they would not hesitate to burn his sweet, sweet pretty head. The stench of gunpowder assaulted his nostrils as he licked the rim, choking back the gag as they shoved the cold metal between his lips. He licked the shaft as though it were one of their dicks. In some ways it didn’t hurt as much as having one of them deepthroat fucking his mouth. In other ways it was worse. 

It was his own gun they used to fuck him with. They had other guns on deck, but those were boring, they said as they stuck it up his sore ass. They let him experience all sizes: thin-necked guns to double-barreled rifles that stretched him so wide he was sure he would be sore for weeks, if he got out of this alive somehow. But his own gun? A flamethrower that could set his ass literally on fire? That was sweet. They loved sticking it, especially down his throat. 

Surt had wrestled his gun from him. It was all part of the game, part of him reclaiming his old title as Cleanser. To mark Emil’s defeat, he had stripped him of his uniform before taking him dry, fast and hard in the ass while Garm forced him to suck on the gun. They didn’t take so much time as to prep him. Of course they wouldn’t. Emil knew the type. Big losers in the Cleansers training who thought they were hot shit. They must have been suspended from duties for some dumb violation and never looked back. 

A small crew took turns with Emil. He bit back the tears and shouldered the pain; was he not a man? A Cleanser who kept his honor and title? He wouldn’t have anyone point at laugh at him, wouldn’t be reduced by these dropout jerks, although that was exactly what the men were doing. He wouldn’t be put to shame, even if his cock betrayed him, even if he half-wished he could stroke himself, even as the men noticed and laughed and leered at him as they took turns. 

At the moment it was Garm standing before him. He mimicked the speed and rhythm with the gun as Surt took a second round with Emil, pounding so hard and fast that Emil nearly fainted. He could never get used to this. 

_Who’s the loser now?_ Emil thought as Surt dug in deeper with a long groan. At that same moment, Garm dug the gun deeper down his throat while his free hand stroked himself, and Emil choked around the metal, trying not to gag and choke around the smoke. 

He will not cry, he told himself as the fresh wave trickled down his face. He will not cry.

* * *

Tuuri was made to sit on Loki’s lap as he fondled with her pussy. Come still trickled down from her sore opening from where Loki had taken her while Sigrun was made to watch. They had used a rod as a sex toy, and it had bare fit into her. It took Fernyr being a “gentleman” by means of licking her pussy till it was lubed enough to accept the rod that they finally got it in, with lots of painful screaming following from Tuuri. It has been discarded not long after, replaced by Loki’s cock, all while Sigrun watched as Tuuri broke down into pieces before her. 

From where she was still strapped to the tree, Sigrun had a clear vantage point of everyone else on her crew. She witnessed the assault of Mikkel by the tentacled creature from the ocean. She watched as Emil was left alone to be toyed and fucked with by a group of men. Reynir and Lalli were lying naked, faces drawn in frozen terror, and she knew they were locked in some battle in the dreamworld as Louhi watched them. The man was enjoying himself on their bodies, taking turns. The ghost was mainly interested in Lalli. The lady was doing something with their minds, stirring fear or _something_. Lalli’s body barely moved, but it seemed Reynir was trying to fight back. The horrific grin on the ghostly horse was what terrified her most, but she didn’t want to think more on that. 

“That’s a very impressive collection of books you got there,” Fernyr was saying. Always, they came back to the books. “You must have been cleaning around Denmark for them. What did you need them for, hmm?” He slid up to her and pinched her already bruised nipple. She winced despite herself but quickly shot him a filthy look. 

“Not talking, eh? Want us to have another go at your driver? Don’t think she could take another fucking. She puked after the third one.” 

The blood boiled, vibrating in her head like alarm bells, but Sigrun tried to keep cool. She needed a plan. 

Just then, she eyed a small blade just visible in the pocket of her discarded pants. 

“You see what I find interesting is…you all are a bunch of nobodies. No proud military would send idiots like you out here. So, who would send you out to get these books and why?” 

Grinning, Loki toyed more aggressively with Tuuri’s pussy as if getting her ready for the next round, and she whimpered and began crying again. 

Sigrun toed the hilt of the blade.

“Whose bullets were your all taking? ‘Cuz a bunch of riffraffs like you out here is suicide, that’s for sure.” 

Loki plunged his fingers deep into Tuuri’s pussy, twisting them. She squealed in pain. 

Sigrun cast down her head. “It was me.” 

The words came out merely a mutter. 

Fernyr drew close to her face. “What was that?” 

“Me…I was an idiot…and…” 

The blade shot through his skull in one fell motion. “You’re dead!” Sigrun’s cut binds dropped in that moment. Loki didn’t have a moment to react before Sigrun retrieved the blade and made for him. With a battle cry, she cleaved off his head even while Tuuri still sat on his lap. With another shriek, Tuuri leapt away from him before the blood could splatter her. 

“Fuckers,” Sigrun growled. Finding the rod they had used on Tuuri, Sigrun picked it up and shoved it roughly into Fernyr’s ass. 

“Fuck you,” she spat. 

She quickly checked on Tuuri before sprinting towards the rest, taking out every pirate that she crossed. Anger pumped in her veins like nothing she ever encountered. Surt and Garm were next, then Jörmungandr and the sea monster. Their blood splattered her bruised and assaulted body. But it felt wonderful, the revenge, the victory. 

The mages came next. 

A dangerous hiss issued from the ghostly horse, and Sigrun glared at it, pointing her blade at it. She slashed at it once, twice, but even when she could strike it no damage would take. 

“Reynir! Lalli! Wake up! Do something about the ghost!” 

Reynir and Lalli jolted awake, then taking note of their surroundings, immediately set to work. Lalli, though visibly very shaken and ghostly pale, began his chant as Reynir drew a rune around them, as battered and shaken his own entire body was. The rune came out crooked from how unsteady his hands were, but it achieved the desired effect. Sleipnir screeched and galloped off. 

“Good work, good work,” Sigrun said, panting. 

Lalli took a good look around himself. He was stripped completely bare, and looking very vulnerable at this moment. They all were. There was no shame in it, but he especially was very much shattered, Sigrun noted. He studied Louhi and Untamo’s bodies to make sure they were truly dead. Then slowly Lalli approached Reynir and embraced him tightly. He buried his face in Reynir’s bare chest, and Sigrun was sure he was crying, because moments later Reynir’s lips quivered and he too followed suit.

* * *

Sigrun had single-handedly killed off most of the pirates, and any who were still remaining were taken care of by Mikkel, because Emil could barely stand and Tuuri was in no shape emotionally to join in. Neither were Reynir and Lalli, for that matter. 

When they regrouped Sigrun asked Emil to join her for one quick trip to the pirate ship.

“Don’t!” Mikkel had cried when he saw them make their way to it. “We might need it!” 

“There is nothing we need from them!” Sigrun had shouted back. 

When Emil set fire to the entire ship with his flamethrower, she saw the satisfaction of revenge reflected in his eyes. 

They left, leaving the ship burning bright, lighting the entire night sky. Tuuri had gone into the tank to find Kitty still safe in there, though mewling in fear as if she knew what had happened to her friends. She cuddled the kitten the entire night. 

When Mikkel recovered enough, he went into the outpost and found them some canned food, First Aid kits, and extra spare sets of clothes. They washed and redressed in silence, and Mikkel tended to any injury. One good thing about having spent a few months together in a small tank was no one had any qualms about baring themselves to Mikkel. 

When the food was ready, they ate though very little. Mikkel didn’t have a single bite, but no one pushed him to eat. No one brought up the monster or any of the pirates. 

No one was able to sleep that night. The stars were a friendly familiar face, so they remained out by the dock. They stayed together in silence as the darkest night of their lives passed. 

By the time the sun came back up, they were all huddled around the shore. Smoke issued from the burned pirate ship. 

Tuuri was still holding Kitty, but she huddled next to Sigrun, one head on her shoulder as Sigrun wrapped an arm around her protectively. Mikkel sat with an arm around Emil who was quiet since last night. Nearby also were Reynir and Lalli who were embracing one another. She would have to get the story from Tuuri or Mikkel about what took place in the dreamworld between the mages, but not right now. They all needed some comforting, some peace and quiet and to come to terms with what had happened. 

The real ship would be coming at any moment this morning, per Mikkel’s calculations. 

No other ghost, troll, or beast had bothered them up here since the battle. No more fiends would haunt them for what little time remained of their stay in the Silent World. Out here all was sunny, green, and calm.


End file.
